


She Don't Do Damsel

by tielan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Community: kink_bingo, Dom/sub, F/M, Kink Meme, Light BDSM, Marking, Protectiveness, Spreader Bars, Trust Kink, tied up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:46:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6232123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The desire to give in sexually has always been a delicate balance between what she can allow and what she trusts her partner to comprehend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Don't Do Damsel

**Author's Note:**

> Found over at the Avengers Kink Meme: "[any/any domestic bdsm](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/20763.html?thread=51230235#t51230235)" and "[Steve is an affectionate but strong and sometimes rough Dom, while Maria makes plenty of effort to be more docile](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/12672.html?thread=28033664#t28033664)". More the first than the second.

It’s Vision who brings it up that morning, perhaps the second or third time Rhodey sees Maria pulling back her shoulders, like she’s got an ache that won’t quite go away. “Colonel, is the Commander all right this morning?”

“Probably just a muscle kink that won’t smooth out,” Rhodey tells the android mildly. “Happens as we get older. Well,” he amends, as Rogers says something to Maria that has her giving him a very steady, very hard look, “most of us.”

* * *

_He glances up after he’s hooked the spreader bar in place, his gaze on her face as she settles into the sensations. “How’s that?”_

_She pulls on the leather cuffs – old and soft and very firmly strapped – and concedes. “Good.”_

“ _Too tight? Not tight enough?”_

“ _Just right,” she tells him, feeling heavy-limbed and heavy-lidded, all strung up and strapped out with him kneeling by her feet, seeing her spread and slick for him._

_It’s all about trust._

* * *

“Did Hill injure herself yesterday?” Sam asks Steve as they head up to the locker rooms. “She’s not walking right.” Her usual confident stride is...careful. Like she’s compensating.

The glance he gets from his buddy is startled and accusing. “What are you doing noticing the way she walks?”

Sam frowns; it’s not like Steve to get on his case like that. And he’s a bit defensive, because, yeah, he’s thought about a few times, but he also respects Maria’s space. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have eyes or appreciation. “Hey, she’s a beautiful woman. And what are you doing playing thought police, anyway?”

* * *

_There’s no room to negotiate between his hips and the table; she’s pinned, her hands splayed flat on the varnished wood, his palms stroking up and down her arms with each thrust, slick and slow between her buttocks._

_He can go a long time, slow and steady and patient, and she usually likes it. But this is new territory for them both, tight and careful, and if the burning pressure of his cock isn’t quite pain, it’s not quite pleasure either._

“ _You okay?” He breathes into the shell of her ear, the short rolls of his hips squelching the lube between their flesh, the sound as electric as his voice murmuring,“Just say the word—”_

_She bites her lip, hard. Yes, she can say the word to stop it, but she’d rather give herself up to the sensation._

 

* * *

Natasha knows the look of ligature marks, even healed ones. She sees the reddened welts around Maria’s wrists when the other woman reaches for the gun Natasha’s offering.

“Nice marks.” Natasha watches for the flicker of eyelids, and _there_ it is. _Interesting._ “Been playing damsel for someone?”

Maria pulls out the clip, checking the ammunition with casual nonchalance, before she shoves it home with a click. “I don’t do damsel.”

* * *

_As it turns out, pantyhose makes an excellent tie._

_Not that she’ll ever get to wear these again, thrashing and pulling her restraints as far as she can, desperate for one flick of his tongue, one stroke of his finger, even one thigh dragged through her cleft._

_He licks the sweat from behind her ear, smearing it down the cords of her throat, into the hollow of her collarbones. His hands are planted either side of her body, the thrust of his erection confined in his jeans – nothing for her to reach, nothing for her to rub. And she wants relief so badly, after an hour and more of teasing and torment. Brought to the edge, then soothed back down again. Wound tight as a spring until her nerves jangle, but never let go. Slick, sexed, and aching, but never fulfilled – not until she gives way._

_And she’s not going to give way._

_This is a battle of wills, and she hates to lose._

* * *

The commander is in uniform today, moving among the technicians and advisors working on the Quinjets. Wanda thinks the outfit suits her; the brisk, businesslike lines of the jumpsuit, the heeled boots striding through the corridor, the high collar framing the long throat.

Wanda has never used her looks as a weapon, but she is learning.

Maria says something to one of the techs and lifts her hand to rub her neck in an absent-minded gesture before she winces. And Wanda blinks at the intimate drift of thoughts, and fights back a blush.

* * *

_Teeth and a temper; two things that most people forget Steve Rogers has._

_Maria doesn’t have the luxury. Not with her thighs wrapped around his hips and his body moving inexorably in hers; not with one hand gripping her waist while the other probes between them, rubbing her clitoris with steady strokes, taking her over and over and over; not with his teeth grinding into the join of shoulder and neck – pain and pleasure and twist and trust, all at once._

“ _I’m sorry,” he murmurs afterwards, one finger brushing the welt; gentle, as he wasn’t before._

_She snorts as she cracks open one eye to look at him beneath her lashes. “No, you’re not.”_

* * *

Clint fits the gun back together with comfortable fluidity, checks all the screws and fittings for tightness, checks all the moving parts. Then he fits a cartridge into the weapon and sights down the barrel.

“Better watch where you’re pointing that.”

“I could say the same to you.” Clint lowers the sighting a little from where he first aimed, and watches Steve Rogers tense. _You bastard._ “I thought you didn’t like bullies, Cap.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh? A wrenched shoulder? Raw marks on her wrists? Bite marks in places difficult to disguise?” He watches the pretty face twitch. “Give me one good reason.”

“To shoot, or to stay your hand?” Give Rogers his due; he’s not a coward. “It’s only with her permission. Do you really think she’d—”

“I see a woman who’s been careful not to let anyone take her down.” And Clint respects that, admires that, and he will fight to protect it – even from Maria herself. “And I see a man who’s good at getting in under her defences.”

“Only with her consent.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to make it better?” Clint keeps his voice cold. “Is that what it takes to get the rage out?” 

Rogers snorts, and his lips pull back in something rather like a snarl. “I think you need to check yourself, Barton. Starting with ‘safe, sane, and consensual’ and ending with ‘it’s none of your goddamned business’.”

Clint knows the definitions. He just doesn’t trust them. Or any man using them with regards to Maria.

“Language, Cap.”

The touch of mockery is enjoyable – and the last straw. Rogers’ eyes narrow, his throat works, and his hands clench before he looks down at the weapon he’s putting back together and dismisses Clint and the threat he presents. “Go talk to Maria, then. And if you don’t believe her,  _then_ you can come back and point that weapon at me.”

The click of Clint flicking the safety is loud in the silence. “Believe me,” he says, “I will.”

* * *

“ _Barton had a talk with me today. The topic was you, and it involved weapons.” Steve sweeps the weight of her hair from her nape and drags his teeth across her hairline, a sharp scrape of sensation. “Did you tell him?”_

_Maria arches, and her fingers clench in the sheets as he cups her breast. “He sees more than most.”_

“ _Just not_ this _.” Her nipple is caught in a vise of his fingers and her breath grates out of her throat._

“ _It’s not—Not everyone understands.”_

_His mouth drifts down along her shoulder. “As long as you know I do.”_

“ _Yes.” She would never have climbed into bed with him otherwise. The desire to give in sexually has always been a delicate balance between what she can allow and what she trusts her partner to comprehend. At least this time, he understands the distinction between bedroom and boardroom. And she likes it like that. “Please,” she says, and it’s at once both order and request._

_Both ways, he complies._

 


End file.
